


Up the ladder to the roof (where we can see heaven much better)

by flowerfan



Series: Brooklyn [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Brooklyn, M/M, OC POV, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Winter Soldier, Recovery, Ruth knows something about survivors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 22:38:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8508220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerfan/pseuds/flowerfan
Summary: She was just a little girl when Pearl Harbor was attacked – she didn’t remember it, so much as remember her parents retelling the story of where they were when they heard the awful news.  But she recognizes the tall, strapping young man who shows up on her doorstep one day, asking in a polite voice whether her third floor apartment is still for rent.





	

She was just a little girl when Pearl Harbor was attacked – she didn’t remember it, so much as remember her parents retelling the story of where they were when they heard the awful news. But she remembered, for years afterwards, relatives seeking each other out, holding each other close, giving thanks that they had not been lost in the camps or the battles. And she remembered her parents talking in hushed tones about other relatives and friends who were not so lucky.

After all those years, she also recognizes the tall, strapping young man who showed up on her doorstep one day, asking in a polite voice whether her third floor apartment was still for rent. She didn’t let on, though – seemed like the boy had been through enough. He didn’t need people asking nosy questions. If this hero wanted to live on her nondescript Brooklyn street, she was more than happy to have him.

The boy – Steve - was a model tenant. He always said hello when they passed on the stairs, held the front door open for her at every opportunity, and even carried her bags into her kitchen. One day she caught a look of something sad flash across his face as he turned to leave, but he declined when she asked if he would like to stay for a cup of tea, claiming he was due to go for a run.

At least she knew he wasn’t lying just to avoid spending time with her. That boy ran more than anyone she had ever known. Not that Ruth was on a first name basis with many runners, but as far as she could tell, he spent hours each day, sometimes early in the morning and then again at night, running. Chasing his demons, perhaps. He’d leave silently, returning later sweaty and worn, his expression showing little sign of accomplishment, even as he plastered a smile on his face as he passed her taking in the mail or weeding her little front garden.

Then one day something changed. Steve was getting up early and leaving the house, but he wasn’t going running. He was spending every day away from home, sometimes late into the night – sometimes not coming back for days at a time. When she asked him one evening how he was doing, the boy suddenly looked guilty, and immediately asked if there was anything she needed, anything he could do to help around the house. She assured him that she wasn’t looking for a handyman, just concerned about him. She was rewarded with a shy smile that for once seemed genuine. “No, ma’am, I’m good,” Steve said softly. “I’m good.”

Several weeks later, Ruth was sitting by her front window reading the latest Mary Russell mystery on her Kindle (it was her daughter Jessica’s fault that she couldn’t stop reading this series) when she saw a foreboding looking black van pull up in front of the house. Before she could get very worried, however, the back doors popped open and Steve jumped out, then turned to help another man step down. Steve looped the man’s arm over his shoulders and walked slowly with him up to the front door. Ruth listened as they came in, Steve’s voice a low rumble outside her apartment door, but she couldn’t make out the words. She sat still, wondering, as she heard them slowly make their way up the two flights of stairs.

Ruth didn’t see Steve for the next few days. She figured he was staying home with his guest. She knew how it could be. Sometimes you needed to just to stay home and regroup. 

Almost a week later, Ruth was at her computer, scrolling through her daughter-in-law’s Facebook page (it was the best way to see pictures of her grandchildren, even if they hardly posted anymore, being all grown-up themselves), when there was a knock at her door. She automatically checked her reflection in the mirror, laughing silently at herself, and then peeked through the hole to see Steve standing there, looking remarkably awkward for such a large, handsome man.

“Hello Steve,” she said, opening the door. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Mrs. Cohen,” Steve replied.

She almost told him again to call her Ruth, but since it hadn’t worked the last ten times, she decided not to waste her breath. “Anything wrong? The water pressure still doing okay up there?”

Steve blinked at her, and then shook his head. “Um, no. I mean yes, the water pressure is fine. Everything’s fine.”

Ruth thought she saw a glimpse of that smile again, but just as quickly, it was gone.

“I just, um, needed to talk to you.”

Poor kid, she thought. Maybe he broke something? He looked so nervous.

“Please, Steve, come on in.” Steve followed her into her living room, and she shoved a pile of books and catalogs over to the side of the couch so he could sit down. “What’s on your mind?”

Steve took a deep breath, and then looked up to meet her eyes. “My friend has come to stay with me. I know the lease says no long-term guests, but I was hoping we could re-negotiate, even though the term isn’t up yet. I’m prepared to increase our rent, for as much as you think is fair. But I can’t really provide references for him, not the kind you’d expect. He’s…” Steve seemed to lose his train of thought, but then jumped back in again. “But I can vouch for him. Personally. You have my word, he won’t be any trouble.”

Several thoughts ran through her mind at once, the first being that she really shouldn’t have used a form lease that she downloaded from the internet, but she finally settled on the most important one. 

“Of course your friend can stay with you, Steve.”

“He can?”

“Sure. It’s a two bedroom, there’s plenty of space.”

Steve blinked at her, then rubbed his eyes with his hand. “It’s that easy?”

Ruth shrugged. “I don’t see why not. And there’s no need to pay me extra, it’s not as if it costs any more to have two people staying here. I suppose maybe if the water bill goes up… but we can cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Steve was just staring at her, clearly surprised by her response. Ruth was starting to get the feeling that there might be more to this story, but there was no going back now. “What’s your friend’s name?”

“Bucky. Bucky Barnes.”

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Ruth couldn’t quite place it. “Well, bring Bucky down to meet me sometime. And tell him he’s welcome here, okay?”

Steve stood up, relief clear on his face. “Thank you, Mrs. Cohen, really. It’s… Bucky’s been through some hard times… we both have. It means a lot to me that…” Steve ran out of words, flashed her a sweet grin, and left her apartment, apparently in a rush to get back to his friend. Bucky Barnes…

It didn’t take long for Ruth to find out more about Bucky. The internet was a vast and dangerous place, but awfully useful for things like this, she thought. Once she had the basics, though (Captain America’s long lost pal – his best friend – not actually dead) she stopped reading. Steve had admitted that they had both been through tough times, and whatever horrible wartime hell had befallen them, they had apparently both survived it. And survivors deserved her respect, as well as their privacy.

It was several more weeks before Ruth met Bucky. Steve had been by several times, making apologies and explaining that Bucky was recovering (from what, exactly, he didn’t say, but she was getting a pretty strong PTSD vibe) and was grateful for her understanding, and was looking forward to saying hello when he felt up to it. Ruth reassured Steve each time that there was no rush.

She tried to make sure to mention to Steve, however, if there was going to be a change in her routine, or strangers in the house. She didn’t much like repairmen showing up unannounced herself, and she imagined it would be even more distressing for someone in Bucky’s situation, whatever the details might be. She even convinced her book group to meet at a café down the street when it was her turn to host, not wanting to subject her tenants to the cackling of her friends as they enjoyed a few too many glasses of sangria. They might all be women past a certain age, but Audrey still had a set of lungs on her, and her voice carried like you wouldn’t believe. 

Finally one day there was another knock on her door. She opened it, and there stood Steve with a tin-foil covered plate in his hands, Bucky standing stiffly at his side. While Steve was wearing his usual khaki pants and t-shirt, Bucky had on jeans and a zipped up hoodie, his hands stuffed into the pockets. He looked decidedly uncomfortable.

“Hello boys,” Ruth said, hoping not to let on how excited she was at Bucky’s progress. “How are you two doing?”

“We’re going great, Mrs. Cohen,” Steve said, glancing quickly at Bucky to include him as well. “We made these for you, to say thanks.” Steve held out the plate and Ruth took it.

“That’s so nice of you, you didn’t have to do that,” she said automatically. “What is it?”

“They’re just shortbread cookies.”

“Well, I’m not much of a cook, but they smell wonderful.” They did. Clearly she would not be starting her diet today.

Steve smiled. “I’m not much of a cook either. Bucky made them.”

Ruth tried to catch Bucky’s eye, but he had his glance trained firmly on the ground. His hair had been cut short (probably by Steve, given the slightly uneven look), but Ruth bet he was wishing it was still long enough to cover his face. “I’m impressed. Thank you, Bucky.”

Bucky shrugged, his eyes flickering up to hers and then back down. “It’s nothing.”

“It is definitely not nothing,” Ruth said softly, and was rewarded with another quick glance from Bucky. “Well, I don’t want to keep you, but you two be sure to let me know if there is anything you need.” Suddenly she remembered something she had been meaning to mention. “You know, I’ve got some extra furniture in my spare room that you would be welcome to borrow. A bookcase, and a chest of drawers. It would actually be great to get them out of the way, if you could use them.”

The boys exchanged a look, and Steve nodded, considering. “That’s very nice of you, Mrs. Cohen.”

“Ruth,” she muttered, grinning when Steve caught on and smiled at her.

“We’ll think about it,” Steve said. “Ruth. Thanks again.”

And that’s how she wound up with two very strong and impressive men carrying furniture from her spare room down to the first floor, and then up to their third floor apartment, just a few days later. She was sort of sorry she hadn’t invited Jessica over – her daughter was always fawning over one movie star or another, and she would have enjoyed the sight – but that wouldn’t have been fair to the boys. Bucky didn’t say much, and was still covered head to toe in clothing despite the warmth of the day – he was even wearing gloves. But he seemed more comfortable looking at her head on, and he smiled tentatively at her and thanked her very politely. 

Steve began going out for runs in the morning again, although Bucky did not accompany him. Maybe he wasn’t as enamored of running as Steve, which Ruth certainly understood. Then one morning Steve left for a run and returned almost immediately, catching her looking out of her window. She waved, hoping it seemed normal to him that an old woman was people watching at six a.m., but he just motioned for her to come to the door.

“Everything okay?” she asked, quickly noting the odd look on Steve’s face.

“I got a call –there’s an emergency at work,” Steve said. “Can you – I’ve got to leave Bucky – can you just…” Steve shook his head and started again. “Forget it, it’s fine, he’ll be fine, I’m just gonna go tell him-”

“Steve? I’ll check in on him, if you want. Or just keep an eye out for him. Whatever you need.”

Steve paused on the stairs, looking down at her. “Just keep an eye out for him, I think. Yeah.”

“Tell him to stop by if he needs anything. Anything at all.”

Steve was gone for four days. Ruth tried to be more attentive to what was going on in her house than usual, but truth be told, her hearing wasn’t that good, and she only ever noticed Steve when he was coming or going. But on the third afternoon of Steve’s… business trip… she was up in her spare room, setting up a yoga mat in front of the television to do some of those pilates exercises her friend Audrey was always talking about (there was more space in the room now that the spare furniture was gone) when she heard music playing.

She put the tv on mute, sat down on the couch, and listened. She recognized a few Motown hits, early 60’s tunes, and then some of her favorites by the Supremes… _Come with me, and we shall run across the sky, and illuminate the night. Oh I will try and guide you to better times and brighter days. Don't be afraid._ Lovely, she thought, as the chorus began. _Let’s go up the ladder to the roof, where we can see heaven much better…._

Ruth dozed off, listening to the music Bucky was playing, and woke up stiff and disoriented a few hours later. But the song had given her an idea.

She waited until the next morning, then walked carefully up the stairs to the third floor, carrying an envelope with a key inside it. Ruth didn’t want to disturb Bucky (Steve hadn’t wanted her to check in on him, just keep an eye out, she reminded herself) so she tried to slip the envelope under the door, only to find that there really wasn’t enough space to do that. Shoot, she thought, frowning. Guess she’d have to do this the old fashioned way. Hopefully Bucky wouldn’t mind too much.

She knocked as gently as she could (was there a way to knock gently, she wondered? Didn’t that defeat the purpose?). “Bucky? It’s just Ruth from downstairs.”

“Mrs. Cohen? Are you okay?”

What a sweetheart, she thought. “I’m fine, dear. I’m so sorry to bother you, but I have something for you.”

She heard the lock shift and then Bucky opened the door. He was just wearing a white tank top – and apparently had a metal prosthetic arm, which to be honest caught her by surprise. Bucky saw her see it and stepped back, and she shook her head at herself and got on with it.

“I really am sorry to bother you, I wanted to just slip this under the door but it wouldn’t fit.” She held out the envelope. “The door at the end of the hall leads up to the roof – here’s the key, if you and Steve want to go up there. I’m not a fan myself, but my daughter Jessica and her boyfriend liked to hang out up there when they lived here. Seems like a million years ago.” 

Bucky just stared at her, and she hoped she hadn’t said anything wrong. 

“Just to, you know, get some air. See the sky.” 

Bucky took the envelope and let out his breath, nodding. “Thank you. I’ll tell Steve.” He moved to shut the door, then paused. “I’m sorry if, um, if the music was too loud. I won’t play it anymore.”

“What? Oh, no, no, that’s not what I meant at all,” Ruth rushed to reassure him. “I could only hear it from my spare room anyway, and I liked it.” Bucky still didn’t look convinced, and Ruth cursed herself for making things worse. “Really, I liked it. Brought back good memories.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Don’t stop playing music on my account, all right? That would be entirely too depressing. My kids would disown me. Play any music you want.”

Bucky relaxed, and the hint of a smile crossed his face. “Okay. Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“Okay.” She smiled at Bucky, and he actually smiled back. Progress was definitely being made.

Steve returned the next day. The day after that, Ruth saw Steve’s rent check in the mail, but this time when she opened the envelope a piece of paper fluttered out. It was a sketch of her neighborhood, clearly a view from the roof of her house. Along the bottom was handwritten “Thank you, it’s beautiful up here.” Ruth smiled as she flattened out the drawing and stuck it to her refrigerator with a magnet. She might be old, but she still had some good ideas once in a while.

A few days later, Ruth was locking her apartment door behind her while Sarah and Zoe continued arguing about where to have dinner, when she saw Bucky coming down the stairs. 

“Girls, go on outside and find the Uber, they always overshoot the house. I’ll be right there.”

Bucky was frozen on the steps, a bag of trash in his hand. His metal hand. Ruth sighed as he switched the bag to his other hand and shoved the metal one in his pocket.

“It’s okay, you know,” she said, without giving it too much thought. “You don’t have to hide it.” She smiled at him, but Bucky still looked nervous.

“I was just putting out the garbage.”

“Okay,” Ruth nodded. “I’m taking the girls to a show. The millionth revival of something or other.”

Bucky looked out towards the street. “They your grandchildren?”

“Sarah is – the short one with the curly hair. The other one’s her girlfriend, Zoe.”

Bucky didn’t seem to know what to do with this information, so as so often happened, Ruth just kept talking.

“They met freshman year of college, and they’re still together, going on three years now. Even though they seem different on the surface - Zoe’s an athlete and Sarah can barely stand to watch a football game on television, and Sarah likes old movies and Zoe prefers reality shows. But it turns out they are perfect for each other. They got lucky.”

Bucky was quiet for a moment, and Ruth wondered if maybe he wasn’t as liberally minded as she had assumed. But then he just nodded and said, “Steve’s mother was named Sarah.”

Ruth smiled. “I guess those old names came back in fashion again.”

Bucky’s eyes widened, and Ruth wondered if she was scaring him, implying as she was that she knew Steve and Bucky were older than their twenty-something selves appeared.

“You know you can trust me, right, Bucky? You and Steve?”

Before Bucky could answer, she heard footsteps on the stairs, and Steve ran down to join them. “Hey, Buck, everything okay?”

Apparently Bucky had taken too long to throw out the trash, and Steve had gotten nervous. 

“I’m good, Stevie,” Bucky said, moving closer to Steve. 

“We were just visiting,” Ruth said. “And now I really need to get going, or the girls and I will have to get hot dogs for our pre-show meal, and they will not be happy with me. Have a good evening, boys.”

She gave them a little wave and turned to head out, but not before she saw Bucky take his metal hand out of his pocket and reach for Steve, who took Bucky’s hand in his without hesitation. As her Midwestern mother in law used to say, it warmed her heart.

That weekend Ruth was in her narrow backyard, a bucket of soapy water at her feet, trying to decide whether it was worth it to clean off her patio furniture now that the weather was getting better, or if she should just buy some new cushions for the chairs and call it a day, when she turned to see Steve coming around the side of the house, Bucky right behind him. 

“Can we give you a hand with that?” Steve asked. It was music to her ears. And so Bucky and Steve helped her wipe down the chairs and the table, and Steve oiled the umbrella so that it didn’t squeak when she opened it, and before she knew it they were all sitting in the backyard like old friends, drinking soda and eating Pepperidge Farm cookies Ruth had hastily arranged on a paper plate.

“I should have prepared homemade lemonade or something, I suppose,” Ruth said, reaching out for another Milano, “but I’ve never been the type to keep lemons around just in case guests showed up.” 

“It’s fine, Ruth,” Bucky said softly. “You don’t have to make us lemonade. Steve and I don’t need anything special. We’re just happy to be here.” 

It wasn’t the first thing Bucky had said to Ruth that afternoon, but it might have been the longest. As for the look that Steve gave Bucky when he spoke – well, if she had a dollar for every time someone looked at her that way, she wouldn’t have needed to rent out the third floor apartment, that was for sure. Ruth really looked at the two of them, relaxing in the sun and enjoying each other’s company, Steve’s hand resting on Bucky’s thigh under the table, and she felt a smile stretch her cheeks.

“Well, that’s convenient, then,” she said. “Because I’m happy you’re here, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song by the Supremes.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this - please leave a comment and let me know if you did!


End file.
